The Beginnings of a Riddle
by butterfly-culture
Summary: Charting the events leading up to the initial opening of the Chamber of Secrets.


**The Beginnings of a Riddle**

**The Summoning**

In Slytherin, the Pureblood Poppy Nertha was as stereotypical as ever. But there was something in Tom Riddle's face that day in Charms that made her forget about the dirty Mudbloods and blood traitors that glared at her as she walked past, and caused her to merely sit down slowly at the table and greet the pale boy with a feeble,

'Good afternoon, Tom.'

She was not even sure why she had said it. He wasn't going to reply. Sure enough, Tom barely raised his eyes from _The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 5_. Ever since she had made that thoughtless comment last week he had made a point of not avoiding her as such, but greeting her with that same cold, high-browed expression. Just because of that one, stupid remark about his mother.

_'Crying again, Tom?'_

_'Piss off, Poppy.'_

_'Not your Mummy again? The Mudblood's dead, get over it. People die every day Tom, it's natural, and you're not a special case. You didn't even know her; you can't have cared for her. No one can conquer death.'_

From that day on, a new sort of hunger had burned in him, and even Poppy could see it. It was ambition like no Slytherin had ever had before. Looking back, Poppy realised that perhaps it wasn't the best thing to say but people often made joking remarks about Tom's mother and he just sat in the corner and sent an equally demoralising retort back. However, she had not expected him to slam his Dark Arts book down and storm off. And every day since she was met with that same cold fury freezing his eyes over.

But today was different. Even from the merest glance she could see that she was hardly welcomed warmly, but his eyes now burned with a sort of eager anticipation. She may have imagined it but she was sure she saw a smug smile flicker across his lips more than once. Each time it seemed he had more difficulty trying to suppress it.

Suddenly, she was awakened from her reverie by Mrs Persephone Pierce, their Charms mistress, slamming the door shut. The pupils scrambled to their feet, anxious not to give Mrs Pierce an excuse to tell them off. Of course, Esmeralda Pierce was the one person who could get away with anything in this class. Her mother favoured her liberally and harshly disciplined, criticised and judged everyone else just as freely. Esmeralda matched her mother in her quick wit and sharp tongue – everyone was wary not to cross either of them as the consequences would be undoubtedly drastic.

Silence reigned over the room as the Charms teacher surveyed her subjects. She swept her blue eyes around the room, pausing approvingly on Esmeralda before gliding down the aisle and turning to face her pupils.

'Today we will be practising Growth Charms. Davies! Jessup! Hand round the ferrets from the box on my desk. Don't dawdle Davies, any time this century would be just magnificent. You're a girl, not a hippo. Once you've finally received your ferret, turn to page 394 of your textbooks to find the incantation and wand movement.'

Rustling filled the classroom as the students hurriedly rifled through _The Standard Book of Spells _to find the appropriate page and begin as quickly as possible. However, before anyone could start, the school caretaker Hestia Turner timidly crept through the door.

'Ms Turner, unless I am widely mistaken, you are not in fact in 5th year, nor is this your office. Now, if you would kindly inform me why you have chosen to interrupt my lesson when I distinctly remember Professor Slughorn requesting your help in sorting out his potions cupboard, that would be lovely.'

'I-I-I'm v-very sorry, P-P-Professor Pierce. It's just that I met P-Professor D-D-Dippet in the corridor and h-he wanted to talk to t-two of y-your students,' Ms Turner stuttered.

Professor Pierce rolled her eyes as if Ms Turner was somehow to blame for this.

'Get a move on then woman, we don't have all day.'

'Urm, F-Fritha Vangard and Poppy N-Nertha p-p-please?'

The half-sisters rose, exchanging surprised but hostile glances. Following Ms Turner, they left the classroom and began climbing the staircases up to the Headmaster's. The caretaker left them a corridor before the entrance.

**Wilhelm Wigworthy**

'So, why are we here? You in trouble?' Poppy snarled.

'Yes, because if I was, it would definitely be _your_ business. Bet it's just something about Quidditch – new Seeker safety precautions or something.'

'Sure, because Professor Dippet would _so_ get involved with that. He is, after all, a huge Quidditch expert.'

The half-sisters shared a rare laugh as they both remembered the time when Professor Dippet had refereed a Slytherin v. Ravenclaw match. Everyone involved or watching had unanimously decided that he was the worst referee ever after he called the Seekers (Poppy and Fritha) the 'Finders' and awarded no fouls whatsoever despite the kicking, biting and gauging that occurred. The hospital wing had never been so full.

At this moment, Professor Dippet rounded the corner accompanied by Professor Albus Dumbledore, the Transfiguration teacher.

'Ah, girls,' he greeted them solemnly, 'please, please, follow me to my office. Albus, I will see you in a little while.'

As Professor Dumbledore departed, Poppy and Fritha tailed Professor Dippet as he retraced his steps back to his office.

'I think it would be advisable if you sat down,' the Headmaster said to them almost pityingly as he gestured to two high-backed chairs opposite his own throne-like armchair.

Simultaneously, the three took their seats and faced each other. There was an awkward pause as Professor Dippet seemed to be considering how best to deliver what he was about to say.

'Girls, I have some...awful news. Your father, Wilhelm Wigworthy, was found...dead - presumed murdered - very early this morning. Your respective mothers have been...informed...of this tragedy and you are very welcome to send a school owl to them. We are fully supportive of you and this is a great...loss...to the Wizarding Community. If you do not wish to return to your lesson, you may go to your common rooms. Wigworthy was a wonderful Quidditch player and I, personally, will feel his missing presence from the _Bigonville Bombers_.'

Fritha and Poppy were shocked. Neither of them had ever been close to their father due to his fickle nature on the matter of women, so they did not grieve as such, but were still shaken by this unexpected news. Fritha was first to speak.

'You say he was murdered, Headmaster?'

'I'm afraid so,' Dippet answered. 'But they didn't catch the criminal. There is an investigation underway.'

Silently, the girls rose from the seats and exited the office wordlessly, until they were sure the Headmaster was completely out of earshot. Poppy hissed through her teeth and turned towards Fritha.

'Bet it was you, wasn't it? You've always been jealous of me. My pretty, clever, Pureblood mother and your - what was it? Oh yes: "an aspiring Norwegian poet." She isn't even a witch. It's shameful.'

Fritha froze, stunned into wordlessness. She stood motionless as Poppy flounced off, her Pureblood chesnut hair swishing, her Pureblood legs marching and her Pureblood arms swinging. She stalked off huffily around the corner while Fritha continued to stare after her.

**Ravenclaw Vs Slytherin**

As is often the case with such things, the news of Wigworthy's suspected murder travelled like wildfire throughout the school. Poppy and Fritha were now both accustomed to the knowing looks that followed them everywhere. This morning, two weeks later, was no different.

It was the first Quidditch match of the season: Ravenclaw v. Slytherin. The stands were rapidly filling as students poured in to get the best view of the match. Over on the Gryffindor stand, everyone winced as the inhumanly large third year Rubeus Hagrid attempted to squeeze himself onto one of the benches. The teams began to file out in neat formation onto the pitch. Each person wore shining Quidditch robes and clutched their prized broomstick to their side, while the crowds applauded as Pierre - Auguste Soujouray, the commentator, announced the players' names over the cheers.

'From Ravenclaw: Their captain and Chaser, Elena Davies; Bickerton and Cormie; the Beaters – Clegg and Cameron; their Keeper – Pierce; and finally, the Seeker – Vangard.

'Representing Slytherin: Their captain and Beater, Lavinia Owens; the second Beater – Pell; their Chasers – Watts, Prestage, and Ralfe; the Keeper – Feary; and their Seeker – Nertha.'

The teams took their positions above the grass, while the Quidditch teacher Modesty Rabnott beckoned Lavinia and Elena forward to shake hands. With a sharp whistle, the Snitch, followed by the remaining balls, was released, and the game began.

'Slytherin in possession, Prestage – Ralfe – Prestage,' Pierre's heavy French accent rang through the pitch.

He had just moved to Hogwarts from Beauxbatons when his father changed departments at the Ministry. Pierre was arrogant and selfish but still had many admirers due to his dashing good looks and charming speech. However, he had not yet confided in anyone that his biggest ambition was to win _Witch Weekly_'s Most Charming Smile Award.

'Prestage scores! 10 points to Slytherin!'

Now with the Quaffle in hand, Elena Davies was storming up the pitch tailed by Lavinia Owens. She passed back to her supporting Chasers. Janet Watts nearly intercepted but Ismay Bickerton snatched the Quaffle just in time. Ismay was now zooming towards Ravenclaw's goal hoops. In the meantime, the two Seekers, Fritha and Poppy, were repeatedly circling the pitch. Both were desperately hunting for the Golden Snitch. The score: 60-40 to Slytherin.

Suddenly, Fritha was sure that a flicker of gold had appeared by the teachers' stand. She furtively glanced over her shoulder to check that Poppy was not nearby, and then swooped towards that glimmering light. Soon enough, Poppy began trailing her. She sped up to Fritha's left side. Together, the wood of their broomsticks scraping, they sped downwards. However, before either of them could grab the snitch, something happened that stole everyone's attention.

Pierre had been commentating. Elena Davies had been lingering in the middle of the pitch, ready to chase the Quaffle if it came her way. She glanced over at Pierre and he, in his usual smarmy fashion, flashed her one of his most dazzling smiles. Davies, notorious for her bad balance even when stationary and for her recklessness, promptly slipped sideways off her broomstick and plummeted to the ground.

**Accusations**

A week later, Elena was lying on her back on a bed in the hospital wing, so bored that she had been moved to just staring at the ceiling. She was very restless without lessons or the company of the others in her common room and dormitory.

In the meantime, Esmeralda, Poppy, Fritha, Tom and the rest of their Transfiguration class were being subjected to an hour's worth of Professor Dumbledore's slightly mad lecturing. At last, he set them off in pairs to practise their rabbit transfigurations. Esmeralda, who could never resist a good gossip, took the opportunity to talk to her partner, Fritha.

'So where's Elena?' she whispered in a conspiratorial voice.

'Still in the hospital wing...Healer Aegery seems to be having difficulty mending Elena's ribs, because they're broken in so many places.'

'Oh, right. Well...I wasn't _going _to say anything to you, but now that Elena's not here...' Esmeralda left the sentence hanging in a most tantalising manner.

'Say what? What are you talking about?' Fritha asked, confused.

'Look Fritha, there's no easy way to say this, but here it is: _I _think Elena's father killed your dad. _I _heard from my father who, as you know, coaches the _Bombers,_ that Matthew Davies was positively _green_ with envy when Mr Wigworthy gained a place on the _Bigonville Bombers_ ahead of him. _I _heard Matthew Davies said he'd do _anything_ to get a place on that team. I'm _sure_ it was him.'

'What? No. Elena's dad? It couldn't be. Surely not? They're not even sure he was murdered!'

'I guess not, but _I_ think it's pretty clear. Matthew Davies killed your father,' Esmeralda insisted.

'I suppose you _could_ be right... It's just a shock,' Fritha murmured, too surprised to say much.

Esmeralda looked on, pleased with the trouble she had caused.

**Over hearings and Arrivals**

'Sorry I accused you,' Poppy muttered reluctantly to Fritha.

The half-sisters were making their way to Potions with Professor Slughorn. As soon as Professor Dumbledore had released the Ravenclaws and Slytherins from the Transfiguration classroom, Fritha had informed Poppy of Esmeralda's suspicions. Poppy had reacted much in the same way as Fritha had. She had denied it at first, then realised it would, in fact, make sense for Matthew Davies to have murdered their father. It had been common news earlier that year that when Davies was bumped off the _Bigonville Bombers _in favour of Wigworthy he became envious – ordering Elena to tear up her _Bombers _posters and switching his favour to the _Chudley Cannons_, something no one in their right mind would do.

'It's alright, I suppose. Just for goodness' sake, don't keep turning on me like that! Our father's gone now, my mother's drowning in her sorrow due to her numerous failed attempts to break into the Norwegian poetry scene; your mum's an Irish alcoholic! We have to stick together. However much we hate each other,' Fritha told Poppy firmly.

'Deal,' Poppy replied.

That single word was the strongest alliance ever formed by the two girls, who had always despised each other.

'Right. So this Matthew Davies business – what's to be done?' Fritha asked.

'I say we lie low until we have proof. Not that we really need it, to be honest. I'm certain Matthew Davies killed our father,' Poppy replied, and Fritha nodded her consent.

The two entered their Potions classroom, and, as they had agreed, no more was to be said on the matter before proof appeared, or further investigations were carried out. However, it was most unfortunate that as the discussion had been taking place, Hestia Turner had been clearing out the Potions supply cupboard nearby. She had heard everything. Being a caretaker, interesting things rarely happened to Hestia, who led a simple life. Now, she felt tremendously animated at the prospect of her, Hestia Turner, being heroine of the hour, and being the reason behind the arrest of a murderer! Trembling with excitement, Hestia set down the gillyweed jar she had been polishing, and hurried to Armando Dippet's office.

When she reached the office, she realised she did not know the password. This did nothing to quell her enthusiasm and she stood in front of the office door, shouting random words. A great amount of time would have passed in this way if Hestia had not at that moment been distracted by a tabby cat that seemed to have appeared out of nowhere. The creature seemed friendly enough as it padded across the stone floor towards the door that Hestia was standing by. It held itself in a curiously dignified manner and had distinctive square markings around its eyes. But this was not the most shocking thing about the animal. For right in front of Hestia's eyes, the cat seemed to contort, then grow. Its fur seemed to shrink back into its body and it reared onto its hind legs. After a minute or so, there was no longer a tabby cat making its way down the corridor, but a woman.

'Good afternoon. Is this Professor Dippet's office?' the woman queried in clipped Scottish tones.

At first, Hestia was so taken aback, she did not register that she was being spoken to. An awkward silence ensued before Hestia pulled herself together.

'Y-yes, yes it is. But I'm afraid I-I-I d-d-don't know the password.'

Hestia became suddenly aware of how idiotic she must look: her rather wild auburn hair greyed by the dust from the cupboard; her hands slimy and damp from the gillyweed; and her overlarge trousers trailing on the ground. Hestia felt extremely intimidated by this newcomer and tried to block the gaping hole in the front of her left shoe with her other foot.

If she was amused by Hestia's appearance, the woman made no show of it. She was of average height, but bony, making her appear taller than she really was. She had black hair, only the edge of which was visible underneath her pointed tartan hat. The witch's robes were also tartan. They reached the top of her black heeled shoes. A gold brooch was fastened securely on the left of the woman's chest. She wore square spectacles that perched on the end of her rather pointy nose. _She's rather pointy in general_, thought Hestia. Possibly the most startling things about the witch's altogether startling appearance were her eyes. They were a cold, piercing grey and looked like they would miss nothing. Despite the witch's alarming entrance and the fire behind her eyes, Hestia decided she quite liked the look of her.

At that moment, the office door swung open and Armando Dippet strode forwards, closely tailed by Albus Dumbledore. Dippet made for the Scottish witch, his arms outspread in welcome.

'Aah! You must be Minerva McGonagall. Welcome to Hogwarts!' Dippet said warmly.

It was only then that he noticed Hestia standing awkwardly a little way off. Dippet started, and exclaimed,

'My, my! Ms Turner, what are _you_ doing here?'

'I, err, h-had something I thought I ought t-t-to tell y-y-ou. B-but I can see you're r-rather busy now, s-s-so I'll just be going...' Hestia trailed off. She could feel her cheeks burning.

'Well, I have an interview with Mrs McGonagall,' he gestured to the witch, 'but we can start that in five minutes or so if necessary. Albus, how about you take Minerva up to my office and tell her a bit about being Transfiguration teacher at Hogwarts. After all, it will be your office soon,' Dippet said sadly.

Dumbledore held out his arm to the witch and together they made their way up the stairs to the Headmaster's office. Dippet tilted his head questioningly to one side and raised his eyebrows at Hestia.

'The thing is H-h-headmaster, I've heard some people saying how certain they are that Matthew D-Davies m-m-murdered Wilhelm Wigworthy. I thought it w-was a m-m-matter for you,' Hestia said.

There was a long pause as Dippet considered the information.

'Yes, Ms Turner, thank you. I will deal with it. I bid you good afternoon,' Dippet said at last.

He sighed heavily, nodded at Hestia, and made his way up the stairs to his office.

**Elfrida's Office**

It was Friday afternoon. Armando Dippet was sitting on the high – backed chair behind his desk. He was absentmindedly tapping his foot on the floor. The resulting clicking resonated around the vaulted office, waking many of the previously dozing inhabitants of the numerous paintings that decorated the walls. In an abrupt movement, Armando stood up. He strode purposefully towards the glittering fire that lay to the left of his desk and took the willow patterned china pot from the mantelpiece. He reached into it and withdrew a pinch of fine green powder. Kneeling down, he sprinkled the strange powder into the grate in front of him. After declaring, 'Elfrida Clagg's office, The Ministry of Magic!' he leaned forwards and stuck his head into the fire which was now burning emerald.

After the rapid spinning of his head had subsided, Armando found himself peering into a very ornate room. Mahogany furniture was placed around the edge; the chair and table legs were making grooves in the royal blue carpet. Thick tapestries hung at intervals on the walls; they were faded with age. A witch sat on a simple wooden chair, the only decoration being vine – like swirls carved into the sides of it. It was clear that the woman was very tall, despite the fact that she was seated. Regal purple robes hemmed with gold thread adorned her body. Her straight back led onto an elongated neck from which her collarbone prominently jutted out. Her straight nose gave her a superior air, but the cloudy grey eyes that were focussed on the parchment in front of her were kindly. Her lips were thin, giving her a sly look that was quite contrary to her personality. Above the desk was a perch that matched the chair on which a great tawny owl with yellow eyes and white flecks was settled on. The witch was writing a letter. She held a saffron plumed quill and was slowly and delicately forming the letters.

'Elfrida!' said Armando.

The woman looked up suddenly, and acknowledged the Headmaster.

'Armando!' she returned, 'This is rather a surprise! Would you like a cup of tea?'

At the nod of his head, she pulled the tea-tray across the desk towards her, and began to pour.

'So, however glad I am to see you, I can only assume that this unannounced visit is not purely a social one?' Elfrida questioned.

'I'm afraid not,' Armando replied solemnly. 'I'm here regarding the recent murder of Mr Wilhelm Wigworthy, father of two of the girls attending Hogwarts.'

Elfrida gave Armando a calculating look, before stating,

'Forget the tea. I think we'll be needing something stronger.'

At once, she rose up from her chair and took a bottle containing a strange brown liquid and two glasses down from the top shelf of one of her grand cabinets.

'Brandy,' she explained, 'a peculiar Muggle drink I'm rather fond of.'

Without giving him a chance to refuse, she passed her hand through the green flames and gave the Headmaster a glass. Quickly draining her own, she continued,

'So, what is it that you have to tell me? You can't mean to say you know any more about this funny business than my Ministry Aurors?'

'Not exactly,' he paused. 'I'm afraid it's little more than the suspicions of a bunch traumatised teens, but I thought I should let you know.'

Elfrida frowned.

'And what are their suspicions?' she queried.

'A Mr Matthew Davies. I'm not entirely sure why, but your guess is as good as mine.'

A knock on the Minister's door prevented Elfrida from replying.

'Err...Minister Clagg? There's a young man from Magical Law Enforcement here to see you. Roderick Plumpton.'

Elfrida nodded at the secretary.

'Yes, send him in,' she instructed, before turning back to Armando. 'I'll look into it,' she promised, 'but I do hope this is nothing more than suspicion.'

With that, Armando acknowledged his dismissal and returned to his office in a flurry of jade sparks. He had done all that he could.

**An Unforgettable Birthday**

It was Elena's birthday, and Healer Aegery had finally permitted her release from the hospital wing. She arrived back in Transfiguration to be greeted warmly, for her Ravenclaw classmates had been missing her humorous nature.

'Elena! You're back!' cried Tallulah Clearwater.

'Come sit next to me,' said another girl.

Before Elena had a chance to settle down, the uproar was quelled by the entrance of a stern looking witch followed by Professor Dumbledore.

'Good afternoon, students. Today, I will not be taking the lesson, I will merely be observing. This is Mrs McGonagall. She will be teaching you,' Dumbledore explained.

He silently took a seat at the back of the classroom as McGonagall started to talk.

'Today I will be telling you about human transfiguration – a certain speciality of mine,' she began. 'This may sound very exciting but be warned – it can have deadly consequences if not performed correctly. I will require your upmost attention.'

Every member of the class found themselves listening intently. It was hard not to. Even those who were perhaps not the brightest of sparks knew there would be repercussions if they did not concentrate. And this McGonagall, whoever she was, had that sort of presence that was impossible to ignore. Everyone was sure it would be a very interesting lesson.

'Human transfiguration is most enthralling. Though most of you will not manage much in this short space of time, I'm sure that Professor Dumbledore will help you if you are determined to persevere.

'Now, enough talking. What I'm about to show you is relatively rare, and is not to be attempted casually.'

Silence ensued and the class watched in awe as Mrs McGonagall transformed smoothly into a sleek tabby cat.

Later that evening, Elena was completing some Herbology homework that was due in for tomorrow. She heard a tapping on the window and looked up to see a great tawny owl perched on the windowsill, its talons scratching the glass of the windowpane. The moonlight highlighted the white flecks in its plumage.

Elena, puzzled, walked slowly over and let it into the common room. She noticed then that it carried an expensive – looking piece of parchment tied in a roll with midnight blue ribbon. Curious, she bent down to untie the letter as the owl stared at her reproachfully with yellow eyes. She sighed and reached into her pocket to retrieve an owl treat. After she had removed the letter, she held out her palm to the owl. It pecked the treat out of her hand and, satisfied, flew out the room through the still open window.

Turning the parchment over in her hand, Elena unknotted the ribbon and read:

_14__th__ October 1942_

_Ministry of Magic_

_Minister Clagg_

_Dear Miss Elena Madeleine Davies,_

_I am writing to regretfully inform you of a most unpleasant matter concerning the recent murder of a Mr Wilhelm Wigworthy. As you may know, many lengthy investigations and questionings have taken place regarding the criminal and ensuring appropriate actions occur if and when such a person is found. It is in a highly uncomfortable state that I write to tell you that your father has been arrested under suspicion. If you wish to attend, his trial is taking place on Saturday 17__th__ October 1942 at 10:00 am in Courtroom Eleven, the Ministry of Magic. Your mother and sister have also been notified of the matter in hand. _

_My condolences,_

**_Elfrida J Clagg_**

MINISTER ELFRIDA CLAGG

How long Elena sat there, she didn't know. She was so stunned it seemed that even the simplest of actions was too much for her brain. Finally, she stuffed the letter in her bag and exited the common room in the direction of the Hogwarts library. She was going to find out all she could about Ministry trials.

**Devastation**

Elena could not believe it. She _would not_ believe it. How could this have happened? She was on her way back to Hogwarts on the Knight Bus after the Ministry trial, and she was still having a lot of trouble contemplating the fact that her father had been arrested. She _knew _he wasn't guilty. Her father wasn't a murderer! But Matthew Davies had been convicted and was being taken to Azkaban.

The Knight Bus squealed to a halt just outside the gates of Hogwarts. Wordlessly, Elena rose and exited the bus as if in a trance. The school gates were firmly locked but Elena made no attempt to open them. She slid down to the ground and hugged her knees up to her chest. It was a cold night, but Elena felt numb as she let tear after tear hit the ground. She did not try to wipe them away. The girl was so engrossed with her own thoughts that she did not notice the figure making its way down the path towards her.

'Elena Davies? Miss Davies?' The figure reached her hand through the bars of the gate and gently nudged the girl's shoulder.

Elena looked up wildly, for a moment forgetting where she was. She glanced around to find the cause of this disturbance. Her eyes found the kindly face of Hestia Turner, and she began to cry more heavily than ever. Hestia was startled to see Elena so distressed. Quickly, she unlocked the gate and firmly but sympathetically pulled Elena to her feet. Shutting the gate after her, Hestia supported the sobbing girl all the way up to the school.

Much in the same nature as the news of Wigworthy's murder, Matthew Davies' arrest was around the school after a day. By Monday, when they were back in lessons and rumours had escalated, some of the more naive students were under the impression that Davies had been arrested for being a serial killer, had tried to break out of Azkaban, been given the Dementors' Kiss, and finally had his head axed off by Elfrida Clagg herself and placed on a pike in front of Azkaban as decoration.

Breakfast was uncommonly quiet, the whole school body subdued by the recent series of unfortunate events. Elena, usually never one to miss breakfast, was conspicuous by her absence. The inevitable whispering began. However, both Poppy Nertha and Fritha Vangard seemed surprisingly unaffected by everything that had happened, at least outwardly.

When Poppy entered the hall, she made her way towards the Slytherin table. At the end of said table, Tom Riddle was sitting alone, surveying the hall. Silently, Poppy slipped onto the bench opposite him.

'One might consider us quite similar,' Tom remarked.

Poppy started, shocked that he had voluntarily spoken to her.

'Why's that?' she replied.

'You know: parents, death, etcetera etcetera... But I guess neither of us are _special cases_, to use your own words. So they found the murderer, then?' he said.

'Mmm...I never would have thought that Elena Davies has a father like _that_,' Poppy winced.

'I know, shocking, isn't it?' he said lazily. 'The thing about killers, is that they look just like the rest of us. You can't tell them apart from everyone else.'

'It's a scary thought,' Poppy agreed.

'Do they even have proof that it was Davies? I mean, it could have been anyone: you...me...'

Tom rose and leisurely made his way towards the grand staircase. Poppy stared after him, her mind whirling.

Meanwhile, on the Hufflepuff table, another conversation was going on.

'Is Elena going to hide in her room for the rest of the year?' Olive Hornby asked her friend, Jennifer.

'Probably planning to murder someone. Things like that run in the family.'

'I always thought she was messed up,' Olive muttered cruelly.

Myrtle, a small and pale girl sitting further down the table, pushed her abnormally large glasses up her nose and sniffed. Olive called over to her,

'Oi, Myrtle, nice top! I didn't realise scrambled eggs were back in fashion.'

Myrtle hastened to remove the unruly splatter of breakfast from her person and began to get up from the table.

'I don't know why they've locked up Matthew Davies. I bet Wigworthy took one look at _your_ face and dropped dead!' Olive snorted.

Upon this, Myrtle burst into tears, scrabbled for her belongings and ran out of the hall, Olive laughing in her wake.

**THE CHAMBER OF SECRETS HAS BEEN OPENED. ENEMIES OF THE HEIR BEWARE.**

It would be night before Myrtle's body was found.

_The End_


End file.
